


A Distraction from Our Purpose

by Gileonnen



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, Old Married Guardians, PWP, Security in Weakness, Tender Light Bondage, The Lure of the Void, Void Shibari
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:55:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22342177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gileonnen/pseuds/Gileonnen
Summary: Osiris attempts to work on a manuscript; Saint-14 would prefer to get laid.
Relationships: Osiris/Saint-14 (Destiny)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 163





	A Distraction from Our Purpose

Osiris is penning a promising line of temporal theory when Saint's hand falls on his shoulder. His thumb circles the slope of the trapezius muscle, gentle but sure; it sends a thrill of pleasure down Osiris's spine. He shudders despite himself.

"Osiris," says Saint. He leans down to graze Osiris's cheek with his own, and at that whisper of contact, Osiris nearly forgets to breathe. He feels the weight of Saint curled around him, the radiant heat, and he bends unconsciously into the curve of him. "Come to bed."

"I cannot afford distractions," Osiris answers. Even to his own ears, it lacks conviction. He can't make himself pull away from the heady warmth of Saint's body, the promise of a kiss close against his cheek. "If I set down my pen now, I may lose the thread entirely."

"Perhaps." Saint's voice is a low, amorous rumble against his ear. He straightens, and for an instant, Osiris strains to follow him. "Look at me, Osiris."

If he turns around, Osiris knows that his resolve will crumble--but even if he buries himself once more in theorems, sets pen to paper and marches himself through the last corollary hypotheses, he will not be able to regain his focus. His mind will drift inevitably back to the touch of Saint's hands, the purr of his voice, the heat of his naked body.

He rises from his chair and turns to regard Saint in the golden lamplight.

The light picks out every polished surface, every shining edge; it emphasizes the joint of his hip, the trim taper of his waist, his heavy cock already half-hard. Nudity does not reduce Saint by even the slightest measure--it glorifies him. He stands straight, tall, as though awaiting appraisal. As though anyone could see him in his radiance and find fault.

Osiris can't help raising a hand to trace the striations of thick polymer that link sternum to shoulder. Artificial muscle ripples beneath his touch, and Saint makes a sound like an indrawn breath. "Do you know how beautiful you are to me?" Osiris whispers, tipping Saint's chin up with his knuckles. "Do you know how the sight of you undoes me?"

Saint laughs and brushes his mouth over Osiris's fingers. "I had hoped it might inspire you to undo me. We spent so many centuries chasing each other, my friend--is it so strange that I should want to be caught?"

Osiris smiles. "Have a care," he says, drawing up Saint's hand to kiss his palm. "I am no Hunter, but I do know how to set a snare."

Saint brings up his other hand and presses them wrist to wrist, fingers curled in. He meets Osiris's eyes over the bridge of his knuckles, and in his gaze is an intensity that Osiris feels at the root of his loins. "Then ensnare me."

Osiris rises to his toes to kiss Saint's mouth, inhaling the hot, sweet scent of him. He cradles Saint's hands in his own, feeling their weight and strength as Saint flexes in his grip. It makes Osiris feel very delicate, all thin skin and fragile bone wrapped around the pulsing core of his Light--but that Light flows through them both, and joins them. He lets the low Solar heat in his veins bleed out into Saint's hands, and he reaches deep into the abyss of himself to grasp the devouring Void.

At first, the shocking cold of it sinks through to his bones, lodging in his flesh like blades of ice. But within that aching absence is the Light, and he wreaths himself in Light until he can bear the Void. It spools out between his hands in sparkling coils, a deep violet pricked with what might be fragments of stars.

He wraps Saint's wrists in shimmering Void, as carefully and deliberately as though he were wrapping the hilt of a sword. The Light flatters him; it's the same deep purple as his kind, keen eyes, the color of the ribbons that deck his armor. "Too tight?" Osiris asks.

Saint flexes his arms, testing his strength against the bonds. "Is good," he answers, and his voice is hushed and almost reverent. Already, the heady thrum of his light is fainter. Osiris's pulse is loud in his ears.

"I would like to see the rest of you bound," he says, low. "Would you do me that honor?"

Saint cants his head. There's something raw in his expression, something guttingly earnest, that makes Osiris want to wreck him and remake him whole. "Will you fuck me afterward?"

Osiris kisses his bound hands one more time, as though sealing a promise. "I will."

He ravels out Void Light into loops and skeins, twisting it in interlocking knots across Saint's abdomen, wrapping it in a yoke over his powerful neck. He stoops to bind thighs, to pass loops over the smooth curve of Saint's backside.

Saint's eyes grow dim, as though half-closed. He tilts his hips up at Osiris's touches, but he does not beg; he only makes a caught, eager sound as Osiris wraps a coil of Void around the base of his cock.

Osiris kisses the join between thigh and hip, feeling the cold static hum of Saint's bonds framing his face. "How does it feel?" he asks, and turns to trail kisses down his cock.

Every actuator strains; Saint's legs tremble. "Osiris--" he says, harsh and wracked.

Osiris trails a finger down the cleft of Saint's backside. "I require an answer," he says, and opens wide to swallow Saint down.

For a moment, when Saint's hips snap forward and Osiris gags against the blunt head of his cock, all he can hear is the primal roar of Saint's pleasure. Then Osiris twists the threads of Void, and Saint shudders again and quiets beneath him. He can almost feel the lassitude stealing over Saint's limbs in the Void's relentless embrace; he can almost feel the moment when Saint gives in to it at last. "Osiris," Saint murmurs. "I feel so weak. As though the Light is my blood, but my heart has slowed. But I trust you. I do not believe you would do me harm ... I believe you would step up in my place, if I could not fight."

Osiris slides back, slow, dragging his teeth whisper-light over Saint's cock. "I would," he says. In the moment, he means it.

Saint hisses. His eyes are dark hollows, illuminated by knotted lines of Void. "I can be weak with you. It does not feel like a failing."

Something wells up in Osiris's chest, huge and heavy and infinitely tender. He cannot swallow it down. "It isn't a failing. You could never fail me, my dear."

Rising to his feet, Osiris hooks a finger beneath Saint's bonds. The bright, deep cold of the Void is waiting for him, enervating him, sapping his strength even as it rouses his nerves to hunger. "Come to bed," he says, and Saint lets himself be led.

Once Osiris has shucked his robes, they tumble to bed together--legs entwined, Saint's hands caught between them. At first all Osiris can do is kiss Saint in every place he can reach, unspeakably grateful for his lips and his face and his huge graceful hands. But when the pressure of Saint's thigh between his own becomes almost too sweet to bear, he reaches for the drawer in the bedside table and uncaps a bottle of lubricant.

Saint lies back, legs spread for him, head thrown back against the pillows. "Please, Osiris," he begs. "Don't keep me waiting."

This time, when Osiris slides a slick finger down behind Saint's balls, he feels the taut hole relax beneath him--valves open; effectors signal actuators to release. He sinks in to the second knuckle, and the sheer pulsing heat nearly takes him apart.

He lets his head fall to Saint's waist as he works a second finger in, then a third, curling them over, seeking the cluster of sensors that will make Saint writhe and shout. Saint's hips roll beneath him, urging him deeper in time with his pleas-- _Please, Osiris, I need you, harder, please_ \--

"I need you inside me," says Saint, and the urgent rumble of his voice kindles every nerve in Osiris's body. He pulls his hand free, four fingers shining all down their lengths, and smooths the last of the lubricant over his own aching cock.

When he slides into Saint at last, Saint screams to shatter the skies.

The tangled threads of Void Light spark with violet fire as Osiris bends all his will onto Saint--the arch of his back, his bound arms vibrating with effort, his cock swollen and straining between them. He looks down at Saint spread out for him, and he sees only Saint's endless, impossible strength. Wrapping a hand in the lattice of Void across Saint's lowest ribs, Osiris rocks into him, pulling himself closer, sinking in deeper with every hungry thrust.

Saint shudders and shouts. His thighs clench bruising-hard around Osiris's hips as he spills himself across his stomach--then he falls limp onto the blankets, as though the promise of orgasm was the last thing holding him together.

That's what sends Osiris over the edge: the thought of Saint undone for him, wrapped in his Light.

The bonds of Void Light dissolve into shadows as Osiris pulls out and crawls up to kiss Saint's cheek. "Was that what you wanted?" he asks. It comes out fonder than he'd meant it to.

Saint gathers him up and presses his mouth against Osiris's brow. " _You_ are what I want," he says, so firmly that Osiris can't help believing it.


End file.
